


Wideout

by daveeddiggsit



Series: Wideout [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Daveed Diggs - Freeform, F/M, Football player AU, Jock!Thomas, My First AO3 Post, Nerd!Reader, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daveeddiggsit/pseuds/daveeddiggsit
Summary: When you’re assigned to tutor Thomas Jefferson in chemistry, you find out that there’s more to him than just football. Will you end up being more than just a tutor?





	1. Tutor?

“Alright, class. For the final five minutes of class today, I will be handing back your tests from last week. The class average from the exam was an 88.” Your chemistry teacher says as she picks up the stack of papers on her desk.

“Amazing job as always, Y/N.” Mrs. Stephenson smiles at you as she hands you your graded test on chemical compounds. It has a 98 circled in red pen at the top of the paper.

As your teacher hands out the papers, you chat with your best friend Maria, who sits in the desk next to you.

“Ooh, what’d you get?” Maria asks from her seat, leaning over to get a glimpse of your paper. “Knowing you, you probably got a perfect score.”

“Nope,” you say, “I got a 98.”

“Wow, nerd.” She teases.

“Shut up, I am not!” You laugh. “Chem is my best subject, okay?”

“Okay, whatever you say, Y/N…” She trails off and you roll your eyes, directing your attention back to your teacher who is handing papers back to the students who sit in the back of the classroom.

“Mr. Jefferson, I’m afraid I’m going to have to see you after class. We need to discuss some things regarding your grade in this class.” She says when she hands Thomas’ test back.

Thomas’ buddies who are sitting left and right of him ‘ooo’ obnoxiously, and you see him roll his eyes and shove both of them.

You know, well,  _everybody_  knows who Thomas Jefferson is. He seems like he’s the stereotypical jock. He’s good at multiple sports (he’s on the varsity football and track team), all the teachers love him (except Mrs. Stephenson), all the girls have had a crush on him at some point of their high school career, he lives in a rich neighborhood, blah blah blah etcetera.

So to say the least, you’re actually surprised to hear that he’s not doing well in this class. You’re pretty sure he’s had to have good grades in order to play football.

_Oh well. It’s not my problem anyway. Why do I even care about all this? I’ve never even talked to the guy…_

The loud ring of the bell dismissing class snaps you out of your thoughts. As you get up and gather your things, you’re ready to head out of the door with Maria when Mrs. Stephenson calls your name.

“Y/N, could you stay behind for a few moments?”

You pause in the doorway for a second. “Uh, yeah sure.” You say, hesitantly turning back into the room. “See you later, M.” You tell Maria as she leaves.

“Yes, Mrs. Stephenson?” You ask, walking over to her desk with your books hugged to your chest.

“One moment, Y/N,” she says, “I’d like Thomas to join in on this conversation as well.” She raises her voice so that Thomas and James (who are still talking to each other in their seats towards the back of the classroom) can hear her. “Thomas, come up here, please. And James, don’t you have another class you need to be getting to?”

_Wait, what? Thomas? Why would he need to be in this conversation? What could this be about?_

Your heartbeat begins to beat slightly quicker as you grow a bit nervous.

“Alright, man, catch you later at practice.” You hear Thomas say as they do a special handshake and bro hug.

“Later, Jefferson.” James says before he walks out of the room. “Bye Mrs. Stephenson.”

Thomas saunters up to Mrs. Stephenson’s desk next to you as James leaves the room. “What’s up, Mrs. S?” He asks coolly before nodding to you. “Hey, Y/N.”

_He knows my name?_

“Mr. Jefferson,” your teacher begins. “As you know, you are extremely close to failing this class, which is not only bad for your reputation, but mine as well.”

“Okay…” Thomas trails off, leaning against the desk behind him. “And?”

“And, as you also most likely know, Y/N has the best grade in this class. Which explains why I will be pairing the two of you together so that she can hopefully help you better your grade through numerous tutoring sessions over the course of the semester.”

Thomas scoffs. “Is this really necessary? A tutor?” He asks. “I mean, I’m not a dumb guy.  Nothing against you, Y/N, but I don’t need a tutor to help me learn.”

“None taken,” you chime in. You’re just as surprised as he is about this whole thing.

“Well, your grade says otherwise, Thomas.”

The football player presses on. “Well, what about James? His grade isn’t that great either. Why doesn’t he need a tutor?”

“Mr. Madison has a B- in this class. You have a D, Thomas.”

Thomas pauses for a second. “Really?” His eyebrows quirk in confusion. “Well, damn…”

“I’m afraid neither of you have a choice in this matter. Y/N, I’m sorry to put you in this position, but it is the school’s decision. The science department scores need to be brought up, and this is the way we are choosing to take action. Thomas, you will either get tutored until you bring your grade up, or there will be repercussions and your coach will have no other choice but to kick you off the team.”

“Coach would kick me off?” He hops to his feet and actually looks offended. “Are you really-? You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” She responds before standing up from her desk and grabbing her empty mug of coffee. “I’ll leave you two alone to exchange information, set up times, etcetera. Good luck to the both of you.” She says, walking out the door to presumably fill up her cup with a fresh brew (well the freshest you can get from the cheap coffee machine in the teacher’s lounge).

The two of you stand in shocked silence. After a few moments, you sigh and turn to him.

“Well, uh…I guess I’m your tutor now…”

He looks at you and nods slowly. “I guess so.”

You set down your books on a desk and shrug off your backpack, taking your phone out of its front pocket. You unlock it and open the Contacts app and hand it to Thomas. “Here, put your number in. We can start tomorrow after school, I guess.”

“I have practice from 6-8 everyday after school, except for Fridays which are game days, and I have practice Saturdays from 2-4.” Thomas explains, as he types in his name and number before he gives your phone back to you. “But tomorrow right after school works.”

“Wow, you could have just said that. You didn’t need to give me your entire life story.” You chuckle, sending him a quick text so that he could have your number. “Just text me and make up a schedule. I’m usually free right after school.”

“Alright, sounds good, Y/N.” Thomas says as you put your backpack on and pick up your books.

“See you around, Thomas.” You say, and he waves at you as you walk out of the room and towards your next class.

As you walk in the hallway, your thoughts run freely. You’re not entirely mad about the whole tutoring thing (you’re not happy either; it’s not like you  _wanted_  this), but you know that it’d at least look good on a college application in the future. That is all you have to look forward to.

* * *

“Alright, Jefferson. So, what is it that you need help with?” You ask, taking out your chemistry notes. Thomas sits next to you, tapping his pencil on the surface of the wooden table. The library isn’t entirely empty yet, which means that there’s ambient noise surrounding you both. It’s the perfect condition for studying in your opinion.

“I don’t know.” He says, shrugging. “Everything?”

“Let’s just start at the beginning, yeah? The easy stuff.” You say, opening your notebook.

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” Thomas says with a hint of a smile. “You’re the boss.”

You have to force yourself to not let his charm or smug persona affect you. So you ignore the nickname he calls you and move on. “What does the C stand for on the periodic table?” You ask him.

“Carbon.” The football player answers, breathing out a laugh. “I’m not  _hopeless_ , Y/N.”

“I mean, you did say  _everything_ , didn’t you? I had to make sure.” You grin (making Thomas roll his eyes) before asking, ”Do you know how many protons it has?”

Thomas’ eyes narrow in concentration as he thinks. “Seven?”

“Is that a guess?”

“No, I know this stuff.” He says confidently, but you know he’s lying. “I swear.”

“Well, you’re actually wrong. It’s six.” You correct him.

“I knew that…” He mumbled.

You sigh internally but don’t let your true, already frustrated emotions show on the surface. Deep down you know that tutoring Thomas Jefferson is going to be a long, long ride.


	2. Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Y/N grow closer during another studying session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really craving Thai when I wrote this...and I still am...

Time flies and the next thing you know, it’s been almost three weeks since you and Thomas began your tutoring sessions. As each session passes by, you learn more about him, including the fact that he is actually (surprisingly) a pretty fast learner. You originally think that you are going to have to explain things over and over and over again, but that changes quickly during the second session when you explain moles and the basics of stoichiometry and he actually understands.

Mrs. Stephenson is actually happy with the progress Thomas has made since you started tutoring him. Apparently she let him retake a couple tests from earlier in the semester and he did decently enough to bring his grade up to a C. 

Now, you’re both in the library again and you are currently attempting to explain gas laws.

“...so then with the addition of Avogadro's law, the combined gas law develops into the ideal gas law.”

“Mhm…” Thomas hums with his head resting in his hand, his eyes staring into blank space.

“It’s easy, all you have to do is plug the numbers into the equation. You can just use your calculator- _are you even paying attention_?” You ask, finally noticing that he wasn’t looking at what you were writing down.

“Nope.” He says bluntly and you roll your eyes.

“Seriously?” You huff, putting your pencil down. “Why not?”

He moves his head so he can rest it on his arm as he looks up at you.  “Can we take a break?”

“No.”

“Why?”

"We have a quiz Wednesday! You need to know this stuff.”

“But I’m hungry.” He whines. “I can’t think straight.”

As much as you can see where he’s coming from (you’re starving too), you have force yourself to persist.

“You need to learn this today so we can review tomorrow, Jefferson.”

"That’s why we’re just taking a break, sweetheart. Let’s get some food and then we can continue from where we left off.” He tries to convince you. “Practice is canceled because coach is out of town, so we’ll have more time to study later.”

You let out a sigh, looking away from him and contemplating it. You could feel his burning gaze on you as you thought. Some food and a break wouldn’t hurt. It’s not like you’d rather talk about gas laws more than you’d like to get some dinner.

“ _Pleaseee_?” He pleads. “I’ll pay.”

“Okay, fine.” You give in, looking at him. “What kind of food are you thinking?”

A bright, wide smile appears on his face that makes you swoon on the inside. “How does Thai sound?”

“I’m down.”

You two gather up your things and leave the library. You follow Thomas out of the school and towards the direction of the parking lot.

“I’m driving,” he says, pulling his keys out of his backpack. He leads you to one of the few cars in the student lot (the car that’s definitely the most expensive out of all of them).

Thomas unlocks his blacked out Mustang and opens the back door for the two of you to throw your backpacks in.

“Nice ride.” You comment as he shuts the door. You know that car probably cost two to three times more than your car.

“Thanks,” he grins at you, opening the passenger’s door for you to get in. “Got it for my birthday last year.”

You roll your eyes, climbing in the car. “Of course you did.” You mutter under your breath as he closes the door.

Thomas drives to one of the best Thai places in town. You remember eating there with your friends a few times a while back. When the two of you arrive and are seated, you start to chat about things that aren’t chemistry terms and numbers for once.

“You know, chem is the only class I’ve ever done this bad in.” Thomas says from across the table after you two order. “I mean, in middle school I had an D in history at one point but that was just because my teacher lost my project and blamed it on me. She eventually found it, though.”

“Yeah, I remember you claiming that you would have a 4.0 if it wasn’t for chem when this whole thing started.” You chuckle. “But, how can you have straight A’s in all your other classes when at one point were almost failing this one?”

“Maybe deep down I just wanted you to tutor me.” He says cheekily, resting his chin in his palm as he smirks at you.

You roll your eyes and can’t help but feel the temperature in the room rise. "Don't lie to me, Thomas. Neither of us wanted to do this whole tutoring thing."

“True, but honestly, I’m actually glad it happened.” He says genuinely. “I got a friend out of it.”

“Friend?”

“Uh, _yeah_. We’re friends now, darlin’, sorry I don’t make the rules. We spend way too much time together to not be friends; it’d be awkward if we weren’t.”

“True.” You shrug. “But seriously, you didn’t answer my question. How come you’re almost failing this class? You have an A in all of your other classes.”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I guess I’m just not cut out for science. Maybe I’m more of an english and history kind of guy.”

You nod, understandingly. “I get that.” You say. “I’ve always been a science girl.”

He smirks at you. “Yeah, I can see that.”

After a minute of silence, you decide to change the subject. “So, uh, you’re on the football team, right? What position?” 

“Wide Receiver.” He says proudly, perking up probably because you were talking about sports now.

“I have no idea what that means, but okay.”

He chuckles, eyeing you curiously. "Why'd you ask if you don't know anything about football?"

You shrug. "Just trying to make conversation."

“You know...” Thomas begins, narrowing his eyes and pointing a finger at you. “I should teach **_you_ ** some stuff for once.”

A laugh slips through your lips. “Like what? Stuff about football?”

“Exactly! I’ll be your football tutor.”

“Those don’t exist, Thomas.”

“Just lemme teach you about the game. That way, one day you can come to a game and actually know what’s going on.”

“Why would I want to go to a game…?”

“To see me play, duh.” He says, a confident aura oozing from him. “We’re friends now. You _have_ to come out to a game and support the team and me. You’re definitely coming to a game this season, okay? Have some school spirit! You know, Panther Pride and all that jazz.” He mentions, referring to your school mascot. 

“Maybe I’ll go to a game eventually, I don’t know...” 

“I’m holding you to that, you know.” He grins playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You wave him off.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me teach you for once.” He presses again. “Just the basics of football at least...”

Deep down, you know that he’s not going to give up anytime soon. “Fine...” You groan.

Thomas beams at you, awaking the butterflies in your stomach for the second time today. “Okay, so I’m a Wide Receiver, right?” He begins to ramble. “I’m basically the guy who runs really fast and catches the ball. The quarterback is the guy who throws the ball...”

He continues to talk and explain the sport to you as your food arrives. For the rest of dinner, you ask him questions about football and its rules, and towards the end you have the fundamentals down. Maybe football isn’t actually as confusing as you’d once thought it was.

And that’s when you decide that you actually like Thomas Jefferson. He’s a good guy, and you’re actually glad to finally call him a friend despite your original judgements of all of the jock, rich boy stereotypes that surround him.


	3. Chemistry?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thomas are texting each other in class and you're starting to see him in a different way.

“You got dinner together?!” Your best friend asks you as you walk in the hallway. **  
**

“Shh! You’re so loud.” You attempt to quiet her down. She’s talking way too loudly and you don’t want any unwanted listeners. “And it’s not what you think, M.”

“Sure it isn’t.” She rolls her eyes.

“It’s not!” You defend yourself. “We were hungry yesterday and decided to take a break and get food. It’s nothing else.”

“Y/N,” Maria begins, stopping in her tracks which causes you to stop walking as well. “You have to admit, it’s kinda weird for a tutoring session to be turned into a date–”

“It wasn’t a date.” You groan before you continue walking. “We’re just friends. Barely friends, actually.”

“Look, all I’m gonna say is that I think you two would be cute together.” She states as you both turn the corner and tread towards your science class. “I mean, I think it’d be a good thing! He’s cute, he’ll get you out of your comfort zone, you guys obviously have some  _chemistry_ –”

“Not funny.” You cut in, but she continues.

“It’s the perfect love story. The nerd and the jock getting together, falling in  _love_ –”

“I’m  _not_  a nerd.” You say frustratedly, walking through the door to Mrs. Stephenson’s classroom. You two are the first one’s in the room. “Can we stop talking about this? I mean, he’s  _in_  this class.”

“Fine, fine.” Maria says, sitting at her desk right next to yours. “Just keep it in mind, girl.”

A few seconds later, Mrs. Stephenson walks into the room and greets you. Students trickle into the room over the course of the next few minutes. When the warning bell rings, Thomas and his friends walk in, heading to their seats towards the back of the classroom. Thomas winks at you as he passes by and you can’t help but smile in return.

Maria gives you a pointed look, and you know exactly what she’s thinking, but decide to ignore her as the late bell rings and Mrs. Stephenson begins class.

_Does Maria have a point? Do I see Thomas in that way? I mean, sure he’s funny and charming and cute and athletic, but is he relationship material? Is he my type?_

You’re not entirely sure yet.

* * *

A couple weeks later, you’re sitting in chemistry next to Maria (as usual) and your teacher is going through a powerpoint and lecturing the class on chemical compounds. Halfway through class, you feel your phone buzz in the pocket of your hoodie. Making sure Mrs. Stephenson doesn’t see you, you take it out and check your notifications, seeing that you received a text from none other than Thomas Jefferson that reads:

_hey._

You shake your head before you glance back at him. He’s smirking right at you. Sighing quietly, you turn back around and type a response on your phone.

**11:20 a.m.**

**Y/N:** _what?_

**11:20 a.m.**

**Thomas:** _wow, someone’s being mean today._

**11:21 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _how exactly…is that being mean??_

**11:22 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _you didn’t say hi back. that’s rude y/n my feelings are hurt_

**11:23 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _you’re so sensitive_

**11:23 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _no i’m not…_

**11:25 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _hey i bet you’re the type to cry while watching disney movies_

**11:27 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _yo, Mufasa’s death in the lion king was sad okay! you have to be heartless to NOT tear up during that scene_

**11:29 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _called it._

**11:30 a.m.**

**Thomas:** _ouch, y/n, ouch. it hurts._

You roll your eyes as you turn your head to glance back at Thomas who’s smiling down at his phone.

**11:31 a.m.**

**Y/N:** _says the guy who’s smiling at his crotch like an idiot_

**11:31 a.m.**

**Thomas:** _shut up, i’m smiling at my phone. i’m texting this girl and she made me laugh, okay?_

**11:34 a.m.**

**Y/N:** _question: why are you texting me if you’re like 5 feet away from me?_

**11:36 a.m.**

**Thomas:** _answer: because i wanted to talk to you and i can’t cuz mrs. wannabe bill nye will yell at me._

**Thomas:**   _And i don’t wanna get you in trouble_

**11:39 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _hey, don’t be mean_

 **Y/N:**   _but aw how sweet of you_

**11:40 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _what? she’s mean to me…_

**11:41 a.m.**

**Y/N:** _bc your grade sucks in this class and you never actually pay attention_

**11:45 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _my grade in this class has gotten a lot better. I have a B- now, she has no reason to hate me_

**Thomas:** _And I pay attention to you._

**11:45 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _that’s different_

**11:47 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _true. you’re a better teacher than she is._

Your cheeks burn at his complement. After a few minutes, you respond.

**11:52 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _you should stop texting and pay attention to class for once, T. maybe you’ll understand what’s going on so you don’t have to get tutored anymore._

**11:53 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _nah_

**11:53 a.m.**

**Y/N:**   _why_

**11:54 a.m.**

**Thomas:** _it just means that i get to spend more time with you outside of class ;)_

You blush and smile shyly down at Thomas’ response, but are distracted slightly from your thoughts when Mrs. Stephenson calls out Thomas’ name.

“Mr. Jefferson!” She says and his head snaps up suddenly. “Since you obviously don’t seem interested in my lesson, perhaps you’d like to answer the question on the board.”

Thomas squints his eyes so he can see the board better. He curses under his breath when he realizes he has no idea what the answer is because he hadn’t been paying attention at all during class today.

“Nitrogen?” He answers with uncertainty.

“Incorrect.” Your teacher responds sternly. She looks around the room, but you don’t notice since you’re still smiling down at your phone. “How about you, Y/N? Do you have an answer?”

Your head snaps up and you see Mrs. Stephenson staring right at you. You shift your eyes away from her to read the question on the board as you come up with a response quickly.

“Umm…” You muse, “is it nitric oxide?” You ask, and your teacher stares surprised at you for a moment.

“That’s correct.” She says, her tone more calm than before, and a smile grows on your face. “Nice job, Y/N.”

You feel your phone buzz again a minute later. Glancing at your teacher to make sure she wasn’t looking, you peek at your screen.

**11:59 a.m.**

**Thomas:**   _how’d you know that?_

**12:00 p.m.**

**Y/N:** _lucky guess lol_

**12:01 p.m.**

**Thomas:**   _nerd_

You chuckle quietly and roll your eyes again, putting your phone away so that you can actually pay attention for the remainder of class. Maybe now, you’re not that opposed to being called a nerd by your friends…


	4. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N sits in at Thomas' football practice.

“Y/N, I’m taking your car!” You hear your older brother yell from the kitchen of your parent’s house.

“No, you’re not!” You yell back, getting up from your spot on the couch. Your brother gives you a ‘what the hell, why not?’ look when he sees you. “I’m going to Thomas’ later. I need the car.”

“Uh, it’s not  _my_  fault you need it because your car is in the shop. Get Mom or Dad to drop you off. Saturdays are my busy days; I’ve got places I need to be.”

“ _Erik_ , Mom and Dad are on a trip to Canada,  _rememb_ -”

“Sorry, Y/N, gotta go! Love youuu!” Erik blows you a kiss before he shuts the door to the garage behind him.

Sometimes you really hate your brother. He’s home from college for the weekend, and normally you’re excited because you miss him. However, you don’t feel happy that he’s home in the slightest at the moment. Now you’re stuck without a way to get to Thomas’ place later. You two were supposed to study at 4, but now you have to change plans because your bro decided to be an asshole.

With a sigh, you take your phone out of your pocket to text Thomas.

**1:02 p.m.**

**Y/N:** _hey, can i ask you for a huuuuge favor?_

**1:07 p.m.**

**Thomas:**   _depends. what is this “huuuuge favor”?_

**1:11 p.m.**

**Y/N:**   _my car’s in the shop and my brother took the loaner they gave me to god knows where. So now i don’t have a way to get to your place later. Do you think you could pick me up?_

**1:13 p.m.**

**Thomas:**   _wait, you have a brother? Since when?_

**1:14 p.m.**

**Y/N:**   _unfortunately since i was born lol_

**1:16 p.m.**

**Thomas:** _oh_

**Thomas:**   _but yeah, i can pick you up. i have practice at 2, so you’re gonna have to tag along_

**1:16 p.m.**

**Y/N:**   _i am NOT running or doing any sort of physical activity at your football practice Thomas Jefferson_

**1:17 p.m.**

**Thomas:** _lol you don’t have to. you can hang out on the bleachers and watch me ;)_

You roll your eyes as you type back a response.

**1:18 p.m.**

**Y/N:** _fine. sounds good to me. anything’s better than working out with a bunch of sweaty disgusting football players._

**1:19 p.m.**

**Y/N:**   _anyway, here’s my address._

**1:21 p.m.**

**Thomas:**   _be there in 20_

* * *

Twenty minutes later, (almost exactly on the dot, actually) you get a text from Thomas saying that he’s in your driveway. Shutting your laptop and putting it into your bag, you grab your backpack and leave through your front door. Sure enough, Thomas’ black Mustang is in your driveway.

You wave at him as you pass in front of the car before opening the passenger door to get in, setting your backpack between your legs.

“Hi,” you say, turning to look at your friend, and when you do, you’re briefly distracted by the view. He’s wearing a cut off muscle tank (which honestly shouldn’t even count as a shirt) and if you didn’t notice before, you’ve definitely noticed it now: Thomas Jefferson is fucking  _ripped_.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He smirks, catching onto the way your eyes had flickered down to his stomach.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You grumble, looking away from him and out the window, and Thomas laughs. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and you hope he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it, thankfully.

The ride to the school is pretty quiet, save for the music playing through Thomas’ speakers. You find yourself subconsciously watching Thomas as he pulls into his parking spot. You watch the way his fingers tap along to the beat of the song on the steering wheel. You like the way the sun brings out the brown in his eyes. You notice that he has a habit of biting his lip when he’s concentrating, and-

Your thoughts are interrupted when Thomas turns to you, definitely aware that you were just staring.

“You checkin’ me out, Y/N?” Thomas asks with a smirk, his eyes flickering between yours and down your body.

You try to mask your blush by retorting, “Are you checking  _me_  out, Jefferson?”

“I asked you first.”

“No!” You said quickly, turning away from him.

He laughs, making your blush deepen. “Shame,” he hums, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Because I was checkin’ you out.”

“Thomas!”

“What? At least I’m honest…” He mumbles, getting out of the car.

After Thomas gets his bag from the backseat, you grab yours and follow him to the football field. He introduces you to his coach briefly before he leads you to the bleachers. James waves at you from a distance as he stretches and you wave back. You’d seen him quite often and you two became well-acquainted with each other since you started tutoring Thomas.

“Are you gonna be okay for the next two hours?” Thomas asks you as he starts gearing up. He takes his practice jersey out of his bag and puts it on before he sits down to start lacing his cleats.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You tell him. “I have my history paper to edit and a lot of music to listen to.”

Thomas gives you a smile, putting on his gloves. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You laugh. “Now, go and stretch before you get yelled at.”

“Alright, then. Have fun.” He chuckles before heading off to stretch with James, and you wave him goodbye.

As soon as he leaves, you open your laptop to try and make the most out of your time and edit your paper on the fall of the Roman Empire. Not even 15 minutes in, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You take it out to see Maria’s name on the caller ID.

“What’s up, M?”

“Hey, do you wanna come over? I figured we could finally finish the next season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” Maria says, getting straight to the point.

“Can’t.” You sigh. “I’m not home.”

“Where are you? You never have plans unless you’re… ooo you’re with Thomas, aren’t you?” She accuses, and you can picture the grin on her face.

“I’m not…not technically.” You say, a bit hesitant. “I’m at his practice.”

“Oooh, I see you, Y/N. Out supporting your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You roll your eyes.

“You do like  _like_  him, though, right?” Maria knowingly asks, causing your eyes to widen.

“What?” You choke, coughing on your own spit.

“Ooh, you do!”

You roll your eyes again. “What are you talking about, Maria?”

“Don’t deny it, Y/N.” You are absolutely positive your friend is giving you a pointed look on the other side of the line. “I mean, Jesus, you’re at his  _football_  practice (may I remind you that you used to  _hate_  football) on a  _Saturday_  in your spare time. Girl, you’ve got a crush on him.”

“We’re just supposed to study later, stop jumping to conclusions. I needed a ride - my car’s in the shop, remember? Plus, Erik took the loaner. Anyway, I needed a ride so I asked Thomas and he had practice so we decided that I’d just come and watch so that we can study at his place later.”

“I thought you said he didn’t need tutoring anymore…”

“It’s not mandatory, but we’re still studying to make sure his grade stays where it’s at.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely crushing, Y/N.” You hear her say. “The Y/N from a few months ago would never have agreed to stay and watch a football practice because Thomas Jefferson asked her to. The next thing you know, you’re gonna be going to his games, just watch.”

“…” You stay silent on the line.

“Holy shit, you’re quiet because you  _are_  planning on going to his games, aren’t you?”

“Just one game…” You say defensively. “It’s the end of the season and I can’t go to the last game this week because it’s away. The first playoff game is next Friday. It’s at home and he asked me to go, so…”

“What? Seriously?” She asks. “I’ve been asking you for months to come with me to a game while I take photos for yearbook, and you always passed. Now, Thomas asks you once to come to a game and you say yes all of a sudden?”

Maria is the sports photographer for the yearbook so she’s required to attend most of the home sports games. Although she’s your best friend and you love her, you never really were interested in going to the games with her; you didn’t want to distract her from her task.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You sigh, seeing her point. “To be fair, he asked me like four different times and I didn’t say yes until the other day.”

“The point is,” she states, “that you said  _yes_. You definitely like him, Y/N. C’mon, just admit it.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, finally giving up from denying her statements. “Okay, fine, so what if I like him?” You ask and immediately, Maria squeals on the other end of the call. “He’s different from a lot other guys. He funny and cute…and he can actually be sweet when he wants to be.”

“Okay, that’s the most cliche shit I’ve ever heard you say.” She deadpans. “But I’m happy for you! You’re crushing hard; you actually like someone! You haven’t crushed this hard on someone since the fifth grade, Y/N-”

“You know what, I gotta go, Maria, I’ll call you later-” You decide that she’s talked way too much. You don’t feel like listening to her blabber on about fifth grade you’s crush that you now deeply regret.

“What was his name? Jared? Josh? Jake? Oh yeah, it was Jake-”

“Bye, Maria-”

“You know, you’ve always had a thing for guys with curly hair-”

“ _Byeeee_ ,” you drag out before you pull the phone away from your ear and end the call, stopping your best friend’s continuous chatter.

You sigh running a hand though your hair. Your best friend is a handful, there’s no doubt about that. You put your phone in the pocket of your jacket as you direct your attention to the field; well, more specifically to a certain player on the field. Number 14.

You watch Thomas as he quickly dashes and weaves his way around defenders only to stop for a split second to catch the ball. He does the same drill over and over again, each time taking a different route called by the quarterback (“hot route” you recall Thomas explaining to you once) and catching the football in various ways: sometimes it’s one-handed, sometimes he has to jump, or slide into a pass low to the ground.

“Aren’t you bored up here?” A voice sounds from right next to you, making you jump.

Your heart beats wildly as you glance to your left, seeing Aaron Burr moving to sit next to you. He’s also in your chemistry class, but he’s definitely the quieter of the trio of football players who sit in the back of the class. You call Thomas’ mini squad the Three Musketeers in your head.

“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me, dude!” You say, putting a hand over your heart. “Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

Aaron laughs. “Just thought I’d come and say ‘hi’ to Thomas’ new bestie.”

 _I’m not his bestie._  You want to reply, but you decide to ignore his comment.

“Aren’t you on the team? Shouldn’t you be practicing with them?”

“Nah, I’m a kicker and they’re scrimmaging and going over offense.”

“Okay…” You aren’t exactly sure what that means (even after Thomas explained a lot to you over the course of your friendship), but you shrug your shoulders and let it slide anyway.

“So, you and Jefferson are pretty close now, right?”

“I mean, I don’t know about close, but we’re friends now, if that’s what you mean.”

“Totally what I meant, Y/N.” He says sarcastically but changes the subject again. “Hey, you’re coming to the game next Friday right?”

“Yes, why does everybody keep asking?” You question. Coach Washington and your best friend both asked you the same question earlier.

He shrugs, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Just wanted to know, jeez. It’s a big game. Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Playoffs, right?”

“Yup.” He replies proudly.

A few seconds later, you hear Coach Washington blow his whistle.

“Burr! Get back down here and put some work in or you’re running laps!”

Aaron jumps up quickly before he starts to move down the bleachers. “That’s my cue. Good talk, Y/N!”

“Mhm,” you hum in response, before you turn back to your computer screen. You had totally forgotten about editing your paper, and now you only have an hour left before Thomas’ practice ends.

You briefly look up from your screen again to see Aaron talking to his coach (his coach still looks kind of worked up). To their left, you see a now shirtless Thomas who seems to be on a water break. Butterflies ravage your stomach as Thomas catches your eye and waves at you. You shyly wave back, your mind flashing to before when he caught you checking him out. You’re sure he’s confident that you were just checking him out again especially now that he’s shirtless.

You shift your eyes back down to your laptop screen and decide to just not look in his direction anymore until he’s finished with practice.

So far today, there have been way too many moments questioning your relationship (should you even call it that?) with Thomas.

And you’re not sure what it all means yet.


	5. Boyfriend

By the time practice finishes, you’re able to finish editing your history paper, which makes you happy. You make a mental note to submit it later when you get home.

Thomas comes to greet you after he finishes taking his cleats off and (unfortunately) puts his practice jersey on again over his toned upper body. You follow him off of the field and you both walk to his car.

“You know who you kinda remind me of?” He asks when you both get in the car, looking at you again briefly out of the corner of his eye.

You quirk an eyebrow, unsure of what he’s about to say. “Who…?”

“Leela from Futurama.” He states and you narrow your eyes curiously. Thomas says the most random shit sometimes. But you like that about him. “You know, she’s always making sure Fry stays out of trouble, she’s hella smart, bosses people around…”

“Hey!” You say, hitting him on the arm.

He laughs, the same laugh from earlier (the one that makes your insides all tingly). “Those aren’t bad things! She’s a badass, she’s street smart  _and_  book smart, always does the right thing even if it means giving up something she wants…”

“I’ve never seen the show, so I don’t know who you’re talking about, but…thanks?” You answer hesitantly.

His eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Whaaaat? Seriously? That’s one of my favorite shows, how have you never seen– you know what?” He says, putting his keys in the ignition to start the car. “I don’t even care that we’re supposed to be studying tonight; we’re watching it at my place.”

You roll your eyes. “Thomas, we have a–”

“–test next week, yeah, I know.” He cut in, pulling out of his parking space. “We can study after one episode. That’s all I’m asking, Y/N. One episode. Deal?”

You sigh after a few moments and look at him. “Fine, okay? Deal.” You concede. “One episode, that’s it, T. Then we have to go back to studying.”

“Yes!” He celebrates, pumping his fist in the air. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You roll your eyes, smiling as he turns onto the main road.

He drives for about fifteen minutes before you arrive at his house. And when you see it, you’re honestly not surprised to see that he lives in a big huge house that you normally only see in movies.

When Thomas told you a while ago that his dad is a professional football player who used to play for the New York Giants, you weren’t surprised. You remember asking him if he could get you to meet Odell Beckham Jr. (the only football player you know simply because he’s attractive) as a joke. The funny part about it, though, is the fact that he actually said that he probably could.

Thomas pulls up his driveway and into the garage. When you two make it into his house, you take note of how beautiful the inside of it is. It looks as if it’s put together by an interior designer from a magazine or something.

Thomas motions for you to follow him up the large staircase, and you do. He talks along the way up.

“I need to take a shower because…you know, I’m sweaty and stuff from practice.” He breathes out a laugh as he leads you into his room. You both drop your bags next to the door before Thomas rummages through some drawers, grabbing some clothes. “You can just hang in here until I finish up, though. Do you need anything?”

You shake your head before wandering over to sit at the foot of his bed. “No, I’m good.” You say, smiling slightly at him. “Thanks, though.”

“Alright.” He smiles back at you, standing in the doorway. “Be back in 10.”

He leaves to the bathroom down the hall and you take out your phone to scroll through social media for a bit. A few minutes later, you lock your phone and actually take a good look around his room.

Thomas’ room is so inexplicably  _him_. It’s tidy yet at the same time lived in. You observe how jackets and hoodies are draped over his desk chair, his father’s New York Giants jersey is hung up neatly on the wall above his bed, numerous sports trophies and a couple of footballs sit in a display case in one corner of his room. His chemistry textbook is cracked open on his desk with papers scattered around it (so he  _does_  study outside of class and when you’re not around), and you also see a history and psychology textbook stacked on top of each other pushed to the corner.

But the thing that catches your attention the most is the tall bookshelf in the corner of the room next to his desk. You stand up from his bed to walk over to it and get a closer look. You can see books of all genres, ranging from old classics to sci-fi novels to politics. Of all things that you expect Thomas Jefferson to have, a book collection is not one of them.

You run your finger along the spines of the books across his bookshelf, but you jump and pull your hand back when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Having fun?”

You whip around to see Thomas smirking at you from the entrance of his room. You feel like a deer in headlights and open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He leans on the doorway, looking fresh out of his shower with his hair slightly damp. He’s wearing gray joggers and a blue t-shirt; his outfit is simple, but does wonders on his figure. As he crosses his arms, you can’t help but stare at his well-defined biceps that the tight Nike shirt magnifies.

_That boy is gorgeous._

You don’t care that you’re very obviously checking him out anymore, but when you finally snap yourself out of the daze you’ve been in for at least the past five seconds, the words just come tumbling out.

“I-I’m sorry, I just– I didn’t mean to snoop–” You stumble over your words, but he cuts you off thankfully.

“Nah, you’re fine,” Thomas pushes off the doorway to walk towards you. “I don’t mind.”

He comes closer to you and your breath hitches when he gets into your personal space. You try to take a step back, but the shelf is in the way. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when his toned arm reaches up to pull a book down.

“This one’s my favorite.” He hands you a book before taking a small step back. And although you feel like you can breathe normally again, your heart still beats wildly in your chest.

You stare at him briefly before you finally look down at the book in your hands. It’s  _Don Quixote_ , one of the classics.

“Really?” You breathe. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t take you as classic kinda guy…or just a reader in general, I guess.”

He chuckles, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes. Your stomach flutters. “I mean, is it that surprising?”

You shrug. “I know you told me you liked English class, but I didn’t really think anything of it. You’re a football player; most athletes don’t like to read.”

Thomas smirks down at you. “You’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, Y/N.”

You grin at his dumb pun and nod your head. “You’re right.” You agree, handing him his book back. “Now put this back so we can get this whole Futurama thing over with and study. I honestly don’t know why you want me to watch it so badly.”

“It’s a good show!” You step away from the bookshelf before he puts the novel back. “I think you’ll like it because there’s a lot of science-y stuff in it — it’s dumbed down a lot for regular people to understand, though.”

You roll your eyes as you look at him. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”

* * *

You wait for Thomas in his living room while he gets snacks from his kitchen. He comes back with a bowl full of popcorn, a couple of water bottles, and a few boxes of candy.

“Man, that sure is a lot of snacks for one twenty minute episode…” You comment as he walks into the room.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll end up watching more than one.” He shrugs, setting everything on the coffee table in front of you.

“You’re very confident.” You watch him as he sinks down next to you onto the couch.

“Because I’m right.” He turns to look at you, wearing that damn smirk again.

“Uh huh,” you muse, looking away from him and towards the TV. “Sure, Jefferson.”

Thomas loads up Netflix on his Apple TV and puts on the first episode of Futurama. You manage to get through it, chuckling a few times here and there. After finally watching the show and witnessing what Thomas has been talking about all day, you still don’t completely understand why he likes it so much.

You laugh as the credits show up and look over at Thomas who is watching you intently for your opinion on the first episode. “This show sucks, T. It’s dumb.”

“Hey! Okay, so maybe it’s a little dumb, but don’t act like it’s not entertaining!” He defends.

You think about it for a second. “Alright, I’ll give you that, it is entertaining. If you don’t want to, like…use your brain.”

“See?” Thomas says, pointing a finger at you. “Point made. It’s a good show to watch if you just wanna kick back, relax, and not think about anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You say. “Okay, we watched one episode like you said, now we need to stu–”

“Oh– oh no.” Thomas acts worried, looking around the room.

“What?” You say, quirking an eyebrow.

“I can’t…I can’t find the remote.” He says in mock panic, though you know he’s messing around because you can see it on the coffee table in front of you.

You roll your eyes. “It’s literally right there.”

Thomas ignores you, quickly grabbing the remote and holding it away from you. “I can’t find it, Y/N, it’s nowhere to be found.”

“Thomas–”

“Oh no! Autoplay is playing the next episode in ten seconds.” He cuts you off, and you can see the hint of a smile on his face, causing you to crack a grin as well. “Guess we’re just gonna have to stay and watch.”

“Jefferson, stop playing, give me the remote.” You laugh and shake your head at him, extending your arm.

“Too late, it’s starting in five…”

“C’mon, T–” You start to reach over him to try and grab the remote, but he scoots away from you towards the opposite end of the couch, a laugh escaping from his mouth.

“Four…Three…Two–” Thomas grabs your arm before you can grasp the remote.

“Thomas!” You squeal as he falls back on the couch, bringing you with him so that you rest on top of him, straddling his waist.

You don’t realize the position you’re in until you see Thomas’ brown eyes flicker down to your lips for a second before they stare back up into yours. Your faces are inches away from each other and your nose grazes his. You try to calm your rapid heartbeat, but you’re not successful. Your brain goes on overdrive and your thoughts run wild, but you don’t do anything because you’re frozen in place.

“One…” Thomas breathes, though you know that the Netflix countdown is long over and the episode already started a few seconds ago. The sounds coming from the TV are completely drowned out as you and Thomas become engulfed in your own little bubble.

His voice seems to snap you out of your paralyzed state. You make a move to get off of him as soon as possible, but he stops you before you can. “T-Thomas, I…” You trail off as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, making you freeze again.

Thomas’ hand shakily (is he…nervous?) ghosts down your jawline as his eyes flicker down to your lips one more time before they flutter closed. He slowly brings your face down to his and leans up to gently press his lips to yours.

You’re surprised at first, but subconsciously relax into him. As short and soft and chaste as it is, when you two pull away, you’re completely breathless. Thomas doesn’t give you time to savor the moment after the first kiss. He almost immediately leans in to kiss you again, except this time you meet him halfway. This kiss is very similar to the first — soft, meaningful, and warm — but it’s fueled with more confidence.

When your lips meet for the third time, it becomes heated. Thomas sits up, pulling you up with him so that you’re in his lap with his soft lips moving against yours like they’re on a mission. It’s the third kiss that makes him contently sigh against you as you slide your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly. It’s the third kiss that completely consumes you in Thomas’ presence — his minty scent and taste flood your senses, his tongue traces your bottom lip, his fingers leave trails of fire in their wake as they press into the small of your back and the side of your neck. It’s the third kiss that has you both panting when you finally pull away, a hint of a smile gracing both of your faces as your foreheads lean against each other.

You’re both silent for a few minutes, each of you consumed in your own thoughts. The feeling of Thomas’ lips moving passionately against yours is seared into your brain.

Thomas is the first one to speak. “So…that was pretty great.” He states, his voice quiet and deep.

You smile, breathing out a laugh, pulling back a bit to look at him. Your fingers untangle from his curls and slide down to his chest. “All of that just happened and that’s the first thing you say?”

His lips quirk up into a smirk before it cracks into a big, blinding smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” Thomas muses, shifting so that you’re lying down on the couch and he’s hovering over you with his arms propping him up. Your arms automatically wrap around his neck, as if you’d done this with him before. All of this just feels so incredibly  _natural_  with Thomas. “I should have said,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, “that I could kiss you all day.” His lips trail from your cheek over to your lips where they meet for the fourth time.

Your lips move against his until you can barely breathe anymore. You break the kiss, but Thomas’ mouth follows yours as you pull back. He continues to kiss you relentlessly, lips moving against yours hungrily yet softly at the same time. Your mouth twinges up into a smile as you try to pull away again, pushing at his chest.

“Thomas, I can’t breathe!” You squeak while laughing.

Thomas smiles against you before he finally pulls away to bury his face into your neck, mumbling a, “sorry.” You can still feel his grin against your neck. “Just wanted to kiss my girlfriend, that’s all…”

“Girlfriend?” You ask, catching your breath, and he pulls his head up again to look down at you.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “I’m your boyfriend now, which means that you’re my girlfriend. Sorry, Y/N, I don’t make the rules.” Your mind briefly flashes back to when you and Thomas first became friends; he did the exact same thing.

“I don’t know…” You laugh, smiling against him. “We haven’t even been on a date yet, Thomas Jefferson.”

He pulls back a bit and looks at you. “Technically, we’ve been on  _many_  dates, darlin’.”

“Study dates don’t count.”

“They do to me.”

You stop and look into his eyes for a second. They’re soft as they look down at you.

“No, but seriously,” Thomas states, watching you with a completely serious gaze. “Only if you want to be. I won’t force you if you don’t want to…”

Your fingers graze his cheek as your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up into his. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll be your girlfriend.” You say and that bright smile forms on his face again, making you grin as well. “But on one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Never make me watch Futurama again.” You state, and Thomas lets out a full-bodied laugh, pure joy radiating off of him.

“Aw, come on, Y/N. You gotta watch a few episodes before you get into it. Don’t give up this early.”

“T, I already wasted twenty minutes of my life. I’m not gonna waste any more watching that damn show.” You laugh, watching his face turning into a pout.

“You won’t be wasting your time, you’ll be spendin’ time with me. Please? One more episode? For me?” He asks sweetly and you sigh. You can’t resist the pleading eyes he’s giving you.

“Fine.” You concede for the second time that day. “At least start the episode over so I actually know what’s going on.”

Thomas sends you a cheeky grin before he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

So, one more episode of Futurama ends up turning into eleven. You two make it through the first season and a couple episodes into the second season before both of you start to drift off to sleep. You’re sitting next to Thomas, leaning on his shoulder and his head rests on top of yours as you both nod off.

Thomas wakes up to the sound of the credits coming on. He checks his phone to look at the time:

**10:14 p.m.**

You wake up and shift slightly against him due to his movements. Your boyfriend (you’re so glad you can call him that now) looks down at you. “You tired, darlin’?” He murmurs, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Mhm,” you hum sleepily, nodding against his shoulder. “Only a little bit.”

He chuckles quietly, knowing damn well that you were just fast asleep and are playing it off. “Alright, let’s get you home.”

“Okay.” You don’t protest.

He turns off the Apple TV and stands up from the couch, stretching as he does so. You get up as well, growing increasingly conscious with each passing second.

You follow him out of the living room and up the stairs towards his room for the second time that day. He flicks on the light on and you grab your backpack. You watch Thomas grab a black hoodie off of his desk chair and slip it on over his t-shirt. He grabs a second hoodie (one with his name and football number on the back of it) and walks over to you, causing you to raise your eyebrow at him. He slips the hoodie over your head and you slide your arms through the sleeves.

“It’s cold outside. Don’t want you getting sick or something.” Thomas explains.

“So caring.” You comment in a sarcastic tone, though you really appreciate the gesture and actually mean your words. You kiss him on the cheek and he responds with a smile.

You slip your backpack on as you guys walk back downstairs and you hear people talking in the kitchen. As you pass by, you catch a glimpse of Thomas’ parents for the first time. They must have just gotten home.

Thomas has a hand on the small of your back as you enter the kitchen so that he can grab his keys and wallet.

“Hey Mom, Dad.” He greets them, grabbing his keys off the counter.

“Hi, baby.” His mom says, and Thomas gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. She smiles at him before she and Thomas’ dad turn to you.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson.” You smile politely, extending your arm out for them to shake. They both take it.

“Oh, please.” Mrs. Jefferson says, laughing. “No need for formalities. Call us Jane and Peter.”

Your grin widens as Thomas comes back to stand at your side. His parents seem nice.

“You must be Y/N, then.” Mr. Jefferson, well,  _Peter_  says from beside his wife. When you nod, he continues. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“You’re just as beautiful as Tommy described.” Jane gushes.

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Mom?” He asks. “You guys said you’d be cool.”

“We are!” His dad laughs (and you can see where Thomas gets his smile from). “It’s not our fault you’ve been talking nonstop about her.”

Your boyfriend starts to pull you away from his parents and out of the kitchen. “Alright, you know what? We gotta go. I’ll be back in, like, 20 minutes! Love y’all.”

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N!” Jane calls out after you guys.

“You too!” You reply, a smug grin tugging at your lips.

When you two make it into his car, Thomas stares at you. “What’re you smilin’ about? You smug about somethin’?” His accent comes out for some reason.

You quirk an eyebrow and send one of his own smirks back at him. “You talk about me nonstop to your parents,  _Tommy_?”

He sighs, turning on the car and opening the garage. “Their definition of ‘nonstop’ is more than two times, so yeah, technically. I guess I can’t really deny that.”

“You’re adorable.”

“I know.” He responds, confidence oozing from his tone. He shakes his hair out dramatically. “I also accept the words: hot, cute, charming, and handsome.”

You roll your eyes and breathe out a laugh before you stare out the window as he backs out of his garage.

* * *

When you arrive at your house, Thomas gets out of the car to walk you to your doorstep, his fingers laced with yours.

“Sorry we didn’t end up studying, sweetheart.” He apologizes as you turn to him.

“It’s okay.” You say, squeezing his hand assuringly. “I had fun.”

You both smile before he leans in for a quick kiss.

“See you Monday?” He murmurs, his lips brushing against yours.

You nod, a soft smile still on your face. “Yeah.” You give him another kiss. “See you Monday.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.” He says as you open your door and step inside.

“Night, T.”

He waves, taking a few steps backward and towards his car. You wave back as he gets in and backs out of your driveway. When you close your door and turn around, your brother is standing a few feet away from you, as if he’s been waiting for you.

Erik immediately starts to make fun of you by making kissing sounds and dramatically opening and closing his mouth. “ _Night, T_!” He mocks in a high pitched voice.

“Shut. Up!” You whine, pushing past him. “I do  _not_  sound like that.”

“Yeah, you do, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at your brother and ignore him as you walk away. He follows you.

“So, since when did you have a boyfriend?” He asks.

“…what are you talking about?” You turn to him, trying to play it off even though you know he knows you and Thomas are dating. You just really don’t feel like explaining everything to him. You’re tired and just want to sleep.

“Don’t act like I don’t know about what’s going on between you and that Thomas boy.” He says accusingly.

“Shut up, Erik, you’re not Mom.” You roll your eyes again.

“No, seriously,” he responds, “I just wanna know.”

“Since today.” You answer simply, heading up the stairs and towards your room.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” Erik grins, excited that you finally have a boyfriend. “He’s a good guy, right? I’m not gonna have to, like, you know…beat him up or something?”

You sigh, smiling slightly and you turn to him as you stand right outside of your room. “Yeah, he’s good.” You reply. “The baseball bat can stay in your room.”

“Okay, good.” He laughs before he brings you in for a brief hug. “I’mma leave you alone for now because I know you’re tired, but I’m happy for you, kiddo.”

You hug him back, smiling before you pull back. “Thanks, Erik. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis.” He says as you step into your room. Before you can close your door, he says one more thing. “Hey, tomorrow we can go to the movies or something and see  _Black Panther_. My treat since I kinda stole your car earlier.”

You laugh, dropping your backpack to the ground next to the wall. “Sounds good, E. Now please let me sleep.”

He chuckles and mumbles something about you being grumpy while you close your door. You change into your pajamas before you throw yourself on your mattress.

You can’t stop smiling as you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling. Not because your brother just offered to take you to see Black Panther tomorrow, but because of everything that happened between you and Thomas today. You have a boyfriend now, and he’s on the football team; that fact is still sinking in.

For the first time in your life, you’re excited for the game on Friday.


End file.
